I Got Rhythm, I Got Issues
by Snodin
Summary: Act II: "Once Bitten, Twice Shy." Can Jeff, the new school chef, help Kyle get over his fears? Will he attend the school dance? And what's Cartman doing in his room again?
1. Bust A Move or DIE!

"I Got Rhythm, I Got Issues"

A story based on "South Park,"

Created by Trey Parker and Matt Stone

Written by Snodin

ACT I: "Bust A Move… or DIE!"

*

South Park Elementary, Wednesday morning.

It was imperative that the 4th grade class president and his vice- Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski, respectively- settled any and all debates regarding school activities. On this particular morning, the subject was "Spring Formal Dance Theme," a topic that didn't sit well with Kyle, but since he was the VP, he had no choice but to help Stan tackle it.

On the chalkboard were the words in thick white: DANCE THEMES. Underneath the title were rows of favored options; "Wild West," "Star Wars," "Zombie movies," "Pirates vs. Ninjas," and "No dance at all." Stan and Kyle shared a mini-podium in front of the class while the other nine-year-olds began hooting and hollering over their chosen favorites.

Stan banged his small gavel. "Order? …Order in the classroom! Can we please have order here, people!? ORDER!" **Bang-bang-bang-bang!**

Stan's pleads fell on deaf ears, as the class was still erupting with chatter, hollering, and even two or three kids running around aimlessly. It was time for Kyle to take charge: "SHUT THE F*CK U-U-U-U-U-UP!!!"

All was calm and quiet at last.

"Thank you," sighed Stan. "Now I have some really bad news for those of you that actually care about the upcoming Spring Dance. Kyle and I have just received word from the principal that all of our suggested themes for this year's dance have been denied. Apparently, all the other grades want to go with a romantic theme. Again."

"Awwwwww! Boo! Boo!" came opposing voices.

Suddenly, a small black shoe came hurling at Stan's head; like George W. Bush, he dodged it just in the knick of time. "GAH!" He quickly recovered and pointed out his attacker. "That was totally uncalled for, Craig!"

"I didn't do it," denied the boy in dark blue; while he coyly folded his arms behind his back, his left shoe was clearly missing. Meanwhile, the opposed children kept up their banter.

Kyle grabbed the gavel and banged it. "People! PEOPLE! This is ridiculous!"

"I'll say," agreed Clyde. "Every year, we do the same ol' stupid romantic theme. It's time for change I say!"

"Here-here!" cheered Cartman.

Stan explained to them, "Look, we could always take the same old theme and change it up a little. If anyone's got a suggestion, I'd love to hear it.

"Oo, how about a celebrity couple theme!" cooed Wendy, his love interest. "I like that idea," said Bebe nearby.

"Can't we still have the Pirates and Ninjas and have them fall in love with each other?" asked Craig desperately.

Stan replied, "Okay, we'll set up a new meeting over which romantic theme we can use instead of the same old schtick. We'll meet back here at the end of the week with our suggestions. And with that, we're adjourned!" He then banged the gavel.

As most of the class cheered, another small shoe came whirling at the podium like a rock. Both Stan and Kyle dodged it with cat-like reflexes." GOD-DAMMIT, CRAIG!" snapped Stan.

*

On their way to their next class just after their debate, Stan and Kyle were being followed by an energetic Cartman. "Hey-hey-hey, Kahl! Are you gonna dance this year? Are you? Huh? Huh? Are you?"

"What's it to you, fat boy?" asked Kyle without looking back at the overweight pest.

"I gotta know so I can bring mah video camera and put it up on YouToobe. Seriouslah, everybody's gotta watch you dance, Kahl; it's almost as funny as watchin' a penguin try to fly. Almost!"

"Lay off him, fatass!" hissed Stan defensively. "We don't even know if there's gonna BE a spring dance, after what happened last year."

"Yeah," nodded Kyle. "Those idiot eighth graders just_ had_ to sneak in those bottles of beer, and the whole thing got shut down before nine o' clock."

"Just when we were about to do The Electric Slide, they were doing the Cross-Dresser-ho-down," exampled Stan with a mortified look on his face.

"You gahs," argued Cartman, "there's just gotta be a spring dance! I betcha they're havin' a meeting about it in the staff room right now, talkin' about how they're gonna cut back on da drinks this yah."

*

Cartman was right, in a way. The discussion over preparations for the up-coming spring dance had already taken place in that week. Principal Victoria had called in an emergency meeting with the whole staff- all the way down to the janitors- and met with them in the staff lunch room. They positioned their tables around each other to make a perfect circle before the debate began.

"Okay everybody," she opened with; "the spring dance is just two weeks away, but now's as good a time as ever to make sure no alcohol is snuck in. Let us not forget what happened last year with the eighth graders and their 'chaperone cousins.'"

Mr. Mackey, the counselor with a bubble-shaped head, spoke his peace. "Oh, uh, that was totally my fault, m'kay? I honestly thought those boys were related to our students."

"They were all Puerto Rican, you dumbass!" scoffed Mr. Garrison nearby.

"Okay, calm down everybody!" snapped Principal Victoria just as her peers started to respond all at once. "Our first rule will be to hire adults we know and trust. Any suggestions?"

"We can invite some of the parents," suggested a female teacher. "Oh yeah, sure," said a male teacher sarcastically; "Let's get the McCormick guy on it. I'm sure he'll keep the booze away from the kids."

"What about Mrs. Broflovski?" suggested Mr. Adler, the shop class teacher.

"The raving bitch from Hell??" gasped Mr. Garrison. "She'll ban us AND the eighth graders from the dance."

Miss Pearl, the home economics teacher, responded with, "I have the perfect suggestion for a chaperone. The kids have always looked up to him, and he's always looked out for them. So it's only right that we hire… Chef."

All eyes turned to the lowest-ranking man on the totem pole: a skinny, white man with tan, combed back hair under his chef hat and a light blue shirt under his "Chef" apron. "…Me?" he asked befuddled.

Principal Victoria frowned disapprovingly. "Miss Pearl,_ this_ Chef has just started working here; the other Chef that the kids looked up to… well… he died."

Miss Pearl simply smiled, "Well this will be a good way to get them to get to know the new Chef."

"But… I don't really like kids," frowned the still bewildered chef. "And my name is Jeff."

"I see the point that Miss Pearl is trying to make," replied the principal. "You as the chef, Jeff, will already have access to what the kids will eat. Therefore, you can inspect the punch bowls and whatnot. Also, this would be a good way for you to become more comfortable around our students."

Jeff still looked displeased by this notion. "Uh… Shouldn't we put it to a vote?"

"Certainly," smiled the principal. "All in favor for Jeff being a primary chaperone for the dance, raise your hands." All but Jeff's hand jumped to the air. "All opposed?" Jeff's hand alone went up. "It's settled then. Jeff, the dance floor will be all yours."

"Damnit," he cussed under his breath.

*

Lunchtime was the right time of the school day for Stan and his three lifelong friends to talk more personally about the upcoming dance. All four of them were clearly anxious about it, but for different reasons. As they stood in line for the food with trays in their hands, they appeared in order: Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny.

"I don't see what the whole big deal is," muttered an already troubled Kyle. "I mean, it's not like a prom or anything…"

"Dude, nobody's forcing you to go to the dance if you don't want to," Stan quickly replied.

"But that's just it, Stan. Everybody's making such a big fuss over it- even Cartman's going. If I don't show up, I'll be the laughing stock of the school."

"You're already the laughing stock of the schoo', Kahl!" said Cartman standing behind him.

"Did you hear something?" asked Kyle sarcastically to Stan.

"Nah, just the same old fog horn," joked Stan. "Anyway, if you want dude, I can help you control your rhythm beforehand. I got 'DDR' at home."

"I got a better idea," smiled Cartman. "Let's have a dance-off and see which song Kahl trips over his head on."

No longer ignoring the fat brat, Kyle glanced back at him and growled, "I'm definitely a better dancer than you, fatass."

"Oh-ho-ho! Is that a challenge?"

"Sure, you're on. Tomorrow afternoon in the playground. Stan, you bring the music. Kenny, you bring the paramedics because I'm gonna kick the fat boy's ass!"

At that point, the boys finally made their way to the center of the aisle, where they were met with the polar opposite of their once trusted friend, Chef.

"Hey there, kids."

"Hey Jeff," they said in unison.

"What can I do for you tykes today?"

The boys looked at him funny; something about his mannerisms was off. After a brief moment of awkward silence, Stan then told him, "That's not what you're supposed to say."

"It's not?"

"No, you're supposed to say 'How're my little crackers today?'"

"Oh… uh… H-how're my little crackers today?" Jeff repeated awkwardly.

"Bad," the boys frowned in unison.

"Oh…"

"… Now you're supposed to say 'Why bad?'" Stan directed him again.

"Oh. Why bad?"

"The stupid spring dance is coming up," frowned Kyle, "and I'm afraid of looking like a total idiot in front of everybody."

Jeff sympathized and replied, "Oh, well, dancing is supposed to be fun, you know? It doesn't matter what everybody else thinks about your moves."

"Uh, actually it does," argued the young Jewish boy.

"Well try zoning them out," suggested the tall skinny Caucasian chef. "Lose yourself in the music; you know?"

Kyle cocked an eyebrow. "…What the hell does that mean?"

"Just close your eyes and follow your heart, kid. Try to imagine yourself all alone in the room and just… let go."

"Oh…" Kyle seemed satisfied with Jeff's advice, but then he wondered, "Aren't you gonna sing a jazzy love song to us?"

"Huh?"

"You know… _'I'm gonna make love to ya woman, I'm gonna lay ya down by the fire.'_"

"Sing it, sista!" cheered Cartman- funny thing is, he seemed serious about this remark.

"_I'm gonna wax ya down with lotion, and whatever the next part is…"_

"Uh, kid?"

"_We're makin' love, baby, love, baby…"_

"Kid!"

"_Love-love-love-love-BABAAAH!"_

"KI-I-I-I-I-D!"

Kyle froze in alarm and stared up at the bewildered Jeff.

"Just… take your God-damn Salisbury steak and move down the line! Please!"

"Okay, fine," said an offended Kyle.

"Bye, Jeff!" said the boys in unison as they proceeded down the lunch line.

Jeff watched them move on, clearly creeped out by them. "I quit Chéz Louis for _this_?"

*

The Tavern, later that evening.

Most of the usual crowd had seated themselves at the bar to watch the football game, most notably the fathers of Stan, Kyle and Kenny. When to everyone's surprise, Mr. Mackey the school counselor walked through the front door and waddled up to the bar.

The bartender recognized him and smiled as he wiped clean a beer cup. "Hey, Mackey! You back on the wagon again?"

"No, no. Alcohol is bad, m'kay? I was just wondering if any of the eighth graders had been in here recently, m'kay?"

"I don't allow anyone under eighteen in here, Mackey. We got strict rules against underage drinking."

"Well, it's just that the spring dance is coming up, m'kay? And the older students make a really big deal out of it, m'kay? They see it as an excuse to experiment in adult things, like alcohol and drugs and makeouts. M'kay?"

"Well," argued Randy Marsh nearby, "there's nothing wrong with a little experimenting once in a while. I mean, we all do it don't we?"

"But that's different, you folks are adults, m'kay?"

"M'kay, Mackey. I'm sorry, m'kay?" mocked Randy. His drinking buddies giggled, while his target remained clueless.

Said the bartender, "Don't you worry, Mackey, I know the difference between an eighth grader and a grown-up. If any kid sneaks in here, they'll get carded immediately."

"M'kay, then I guess I'll just have a look around, m'kay?" As the bubble-headed counselor walked off, the other grown-ups continued to make fun of his voice in whispers.

Mackey was no fool, though. He was suspicious of his students to the point where they would try anything. He walked all around the bar to glance at the customers, from the folks sitting at the tables to the ones by the jukebox. He finally stopped at the pinball machine, where a group of young men were gathered while wearing long trench coats and suede hats.

"Excuse me," asked Mr. Mackey, "have any of you gentlemen seen kids sneaking in here?"

"Nope," answered the hidden face playing pinball. "Hadn't seen any, old man."

"M'kay… Hey, what's that you're playing?"

"Pinball Wizard."

"Uh. Is that a fun game, m'kay?"

"It's okay I guess… What's it to ya, old timer?"

"Well, it's just that I hadn't played pinball in so long… You kind if I try it?"

The young man with the hidden face seemed hesitant at first, with eyes that darted left and right. But then he stepped away along with his friends. "Uh… sure, I guess. Go to town, mister."

"It's Mackey. M'kay?"

"Whatever, Mr. Mackey."

Then he heard it, a recognizable voice! "A-ha!" cheered Mackey, as he threw off the young man's hat. "Billy! I knew that was your voice, m'kay!?"

"Oh, crap!" gasped the eighth grader, as he and his friends were exposed.

"You boys shouldn't be in here, this is an adults-only place! M'kay? Beat it, before I turn you all in! M'kay?"

"Come on guys, let's get outta here!" Billy and his four friends made a hasty retreat, while the impressed adults nearby looked on.

"Wow!" gasped Stewart McCormick. "That was some sweet work, Mackey!"

"Thank you."

"You wanna beer?"

"No thank you, alcohol is bad. M'kay? It messes with your mind and damages your liver, m'kay?" And with that, the school counselor left the tavern, satisfied with his fine work.

Stewart then glanced down at his half-full beer cup. "…It does?"

*

The playground, Thursday afternoon.

Right on schedule, the four boys met in the center of the snow-powdered playground. Stan carried in his giant boom-box with little effort, an impressive feat for such a short nine-year-old.

"Okay you guys, this is it," he said as he jumped in between Kyle and Cartman. "I want a good clean dance-off. No hitting and no kicking in the balls, you got it?"

The fat boy raised his hand. "Can we kick snow in each others' faces?"

"No."

"Gah! You suck as a referee, Stan!"

"You guys only get one song, so make the most of it." As he said this, Stan pulled out from his coat pocket a CD. Kenny looked it over and his eyebrows shifted.

"Poofy-pat dollf??"

Stan defended his choice of The Pussycat Dolls quickly; "Dude, I don't have any dance albums, so I had to borrow one of my sister's. Sorry, but this was the best I can get."

Kenny shook his head and gave Stan the "tsk-tsk" hand gesture. "Fer shame, Fan. Fer shame."

Cartman was already hopping on his feet in anticipation for the showdown. "I've been practicin' all night, Jew-boy. I'm gonna dance circles around yer skinny lil' ass."

"Bring it on, tough guy," responded his competition.

That's when some of the other kids, namely Clyde, Butters and Craig, walked up to them. "Hey," muttered a curious Clyde, "you guys gonna fight?"

"No, we're having a dance-off," explained Kyle.

"Oh! C-can we watch?" smiled Butters excitedly.

"I guess," replied Kyle a bit reluctantly.

Stan put in his sister's CD and cued up the song of his choice. "Okay, whenever you guys are ready… And, go!"

(Song: "I Hate This Part, Dance Club Remix")

Kyle tried to get into the zone, when he recognized the tune and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "…Is that The Pussycat Dolls?"

"Just do it!" yelled an aggravated Stan.

"Okay, fine. Yeesh… You first, Fatass."

"How generous of you," smiled Cartman smugly.

Cartman's routine started out simple enough; high-kicking combined with his arms raised out like the wings on an airplane. He was wise to use the bloat of his belly as an anchor while he spun 'round in place. Then, he pointed to Kyle as a cue for him to start.

Kyle responded with a similar routine; arms bent and swaying while kicking his feet in a basic tap dance. Then to top it off, he made a kick-jump like a figure skater, but didn't get very high. He then waved for Cartman to go.

The fat boy did the Roboto for the first half of his second turn, then moved smoothly into a "Live Wire" in which his arms flowed loosely like electricity. He then "passed the power" over to Kyle, whose arms were in synch with Cartman's.

Kyle kept his right foot in the air while he made four quick hops down a straight line before spinning in a reverse move, then did three push-ups as he caught himself from falling- a perfect save. In fact, it was a little too perfect. He then did his own version of the classic Russian kick-dance before passing it back to Cartman.

Meanwhile, the crowd started to grow with more curious kids, all of which were breath-taken by such smooth moves from both rivals. Stan and Kenny, on the other hand, were more focused on crossing checks underneath the names KYLE and CARTMAN respectively. So far, they seemed to be tied.

Kyle and Cartman decided to kick it up a notch by dancing together during the chorus, hopping around as if they had practiced the routine before.

Cartman was quick to regain the lead with a quick-step into a full-out solo waltz. For a heavyset boy, he was surprisingly graceful, and that intimidated Kyle for a moment. But then, Kyle responded with another tap-dance-like routine, complete with waving arms and bending of his invisible knees.

Cartman's next move was his ultimate show: he opened with his famous German Dance routine, then went straight into a belly roll that made him as fluent as a slab of jelly. Then, he did a backward tumblesauce into a swan dip before kicking himself back up and moonwalked like Michael Jackson. Then to finish it off, he did a near-perfect split into an Indian sit.

Kyle was already short of breath by this point, but the look on his face showed that he was far from over. As he tippie-toed into his next routine on bended knees, he blatantly tore off his orange jacket and whipped it into the air, revealing a white tee-shirt, before doing a Michael Jackson-styled spin, then did a half-split and slid back up flawlessly. He then immediately went into a graceful quick-step all around the fat boy before doing a perfect head-stand. Then he actually walked on his hands in said head-stand with his legs kicking to the beat, and tumbled into a full-on breakdance. He spun around on his back and twisted his sides like a stripper minus the bar, then landed on one hand as he glanced evilly at his rival. The crowd was floored!

Cartman was stunned at first, almost missing his cue, but then he went into a desperate jelly-belly routine similar to his previous turn. Kyle interrupted his move with a snake-walk, the one where his whole body moves forward like a slinky. His advancement forced Cartman into the edge of the crowd, and then it was all on Kyle.

Something amazing and even miraculous seemed to happen during this dance; somewhere along the way, Kyle made a complete transformation from shaky tapdancer to confident pro. In truth, he had zoned out of the moment, just as chef Jeff told him to, and lost himself in the music. He had completely let himself go, and that's when he _really_ got good! He started pulling out all of the steps from the book on 80's and 90's dancing, all in one smooth routine that happened so fast that no one could even keep up with. He made great high-jumps, martial-arts-like kicks, even a spin on his head- mostly thanks to the fact that the top of his hat was flat.

And just when he was really getting into the moment, when it seemed like he was dancing on air, he opened his eyes.

(SFX: Record scratching- End song)

Time seemed to stand still as Kyle opened his eyes and was suddenly surrounded by staring faces. He froze in mid-pose in reaction to the dead silence and shocked eyes all around him. He was immediately uncomfortable with this, and couldn't think of anything else to do but take off in flight. He only came back for his orange jacket, then ran for the hills in panic.

There was an awkward silence until Cartman broke it. "…You see?? I told you he sucked!"

*

The bus stop, Friday morning.

Having beaten his friends to the bus stop, a lonely Kyle sighed. But it wasn't long before Stan, and Kenny showed up, ready with their comments.

"Hey dude, you ready for today?" asked Stan.

"What's today?"

"The day we tally up the votes for the dance themes."

"Oh… Man, this dance is gonna suck. I hate romantic themes."

"'Sup you gahs," Cartman waddled into the scene. He glanced up at Kyle and frowned, "Hey there, cheater."

"I didn't cheat, Cartman. I beat you fair and square!"

"Hey that's another thing," wondered Stan; "why did you run off like that yesterday, Kyle?"

"I didn't like the way people were staring at me. It made me feel like I did something stupid."

"You DID do something stupid! You cheated!" accused the fat boy.

"He did not," argued Stan. "You're just jealous."

"All I did was follow Jeff's advice," explained the boy in the green bomber hat. "I just zoned out and followed my gut instincts."

Cartman looked truly appalled. "You takin' advice from the Chef-wannabe now??"

"Well, he _is _the new school chef."

"And it _was_ pretty good advice," nodded Stan with a shrug.

"Puh! I can't believe I'm hearin' this from you gahs. De real Chef's not even cold in the ground and yer already listening to the poser!"

"It's not like that, fatass," replied Kyle angrily.

The fat boy turned away from them in disgust. "Whatever. Yesterday was just a fluke anyway; there's no way you're still better than m-… Wha??" His attention quickly turned to the sound of giggling young girls drawing near. All four boys turned to the left, and sure enough a group of their peers- all female- were headed their way!

"…Look, there he is!" cheered Bebe, the ring leader of the group. They all squealed anxiously as they quickened their pace toward the bewildered boys. "Woah-ho-ho! Ain't this a sweet surprise," smiled Cartman smugly. "Hello, ladies…" But to his dismay, they walked right past him.

In fact, they walked past Stan and Kenny too, and all at once poor Kyle was surrounded by girls. "Hey, Kyle." "Hi, Kyle!" "Hey there, Kyle!" "Is this where you wait for the bus?" "You mind if we wait here with you?"

"Uh…uh…" Kyle looked absolutely lost, and even tried to squirm back to the boys, to no avail.

"WHAT!? AW, COME ON!" roared Cartman.

"Those were some sweet moves you pulled off yesterday in the playground," swooned young Bebe. Heidi was quick to add, "Yeah. I never knew you had it in you."

"Uh… M-me neither," blushed Kyle.

"Aww, he's so modest!" cooed the red-headed Rebecca.

"Show me that head-stand again," beckoned Sally, the other red-head. "Yeah, yeah! Do it again" the others echoed.

Kyle started to sweat nervously. "I-uh-I don't remember what I did. Honest. It was a… a…"

"A fluke!!" growled Cartman nearby. "He's a god-damned James Brown rip-off!"

Kyle was about to lose his breath, when suddenly the yellow school bus arrived. "Ugh, finally!" he sighed, feeling saved. But of course he was followed by his new admirers, while his friends were the last to jump on.

Kyle soon learned that he was no safer on the bus than he was at the bus stop; his five admirers crowded him, either on the seat he cornered himself on or the seats beside or behind it.

In the far back of the bus sat Cartman, Kenny and Stan, still bewildered of this sudden change of atmosphere.

"…Uh… You girls do know he only has _half_ a dick, right!?" blurted out a jealous Cartman. "…Hello-o-o!?"

"Dude, let it go," said a contented Stan to his fat friend. "You're just jealous 'cause he's popular now."

"Pfff," huffed Cartman. "This is some kind of sick conspiracy, Stan. He probably bribed those girls with his mountain of money back home."

"He'ff bot a mou'in of munny?" muffled Kenny in a lone seat nearby.

"No Kenny, Cartman's just being a whiny little bitch," replied Stan. "Face it, fatass, girls like a guy who can really bust a move."

Little did the boys know that Kyle, who should have been feeling like the luckiest guy in the world, was squirming fearfully in his seat while the girls stared at him like he was God. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest as he started to sweat bullets. He couldn't breathe throughout the bus ride.

*

South Park Elementary; _"R-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ing!"_ Went the school bell.

The class was quick to take their seats and fall silent as Stan and Kyle resumed their class presidency, complete with their mini-podium. Mr. Garrison sat at his desk nearby to observe.

Stan gently rapped his gavel on his podium to start his speech. "Okay, you all had three days to put in your new votes for the spring dance, and we have the results right here in this little brown box. My Vice-President, Kyle Broflovski, will read the suggestions allowed while I write them on the chalkboard. Okay dude, read 'em out to me." Stan then jumped down from his podium and took chalk to the blackboard.

Kyle, still looking uncomfortable, took hold of the suggestion box and opened it. "Okay… The first suggestion is: Pirate/Ninja love affair." Both he and Stan gave Craig a look, knowing he was the culprit. "That's gay, Craig."

"Not if you look outside the box," smiled the blue-capped boy.

"Okay," signed Kyle as he grabbed the next small piece of paper from the box. "Next suggestion is… Celebrity Couples."

Wendy gleamed with delight as Stan wrote down her suggestion on the board.

Kyle grabbed the next paper. "Next we have… Kyle and Bebe 4ever?" He glanced up at Bebe with wide eyes, and she winked back at him. "…Uh… Whatever." He picked up the next one. "This one says… Kyle for Class President?"

"Dude!" barked Stan, looking betrayed.

"It's what the paper says, not me!" said Kyle defensively.

"Skip that one."

"Right… Next we have 1970s Disco. Okay, that one's reasonable… Next one: Kyle, will you marry me? …What the hell!"

Stan glanced back at him with concern. "Are these what people really want for their dance theme?"

"Hold up, hold up." Kyle then grabbed several pieces of paper at once to make sure he wasn't hallucinating and read them aloud: "Kyle is the sweetest dancer- Kyle is great- Kyle is my new Justin…" The next one was a very inappropriate stick figure sketch of Kyle and Heidi. Enraged, he threw down the paper pieces. "Aw, come on girls!! This is a serious debate!"

"You got that right," agreed Lola. "We should have a debate over which one of us should go to the dance with Kyle!"

"I should!" "No, me!" "Kyle looked at me first!" "Me!" ME!" All of the young girls except for Wendy had exploded in a frenzy of hollers while the boys (and Wendy) helplessly looked on.

"Gotta love Democracy," muttered Mr. Garrison as he mused at the sudden outburst.

"Girls!? GIRLS! STOP IT!" screamed Kyle as he slammed the gavel on his podium, but none of them paid attention as the girls started to climb out of their seats and tackled each other.

"Holy sh*t, dude!" gasped Stan as he dropped his piece of chalk.

Bebe was quick to run to the front of the room and yell, "Alright, quiet! QUIET!! I can settle this once and for all!" Her peers calmed down just for that one fleeting moment. "Now I was the first girl to kiss Kyle, so clearly I'm the most eligible to be his date."

"When the hell did you ever kiss him?" asked a furious Heidi.

"Way back in third grade," smiled Bebe triumphantly.

"You _dared_ me to kiss you. I had no choice, so that doesn't count!" argued Kyle desperately.

"Well I liked him way back in pre-school," claimed Rebecca in the back.

"I liked him since he was born!" stated Lola.

"Oh my God, _what_ has gotten into you girls!?" asked a horrified Wendy.

"You stay out of this, Wendy! Kyle is MY date to the dance," warned Bebe.

"No, he's MINE! I saw him FIRST, bitch!" growled Sally, as she charged for the blonde. As the red-head punched Bebe square in the face, the Kyle-obsessers resumed their throw-down. Chairs were thrown and boys went running. Even Kyle took flight, but he was only one of two to actually run out of the room. He was followed by Stan.

*

Kyle stopped in the middle of the hallway with a heavy chest and leaned on a locker to catch his breath. He then grabbed ahold of his heart, which was pounding uncontrollably.

"Dude… Dude! Are you okay?" panted Stan as he caught up with his best buddy.

"Lea'me alone," said Kyle weakly. "I… I don't wanna go back there…"

"Dude, we're the class presidents. We gotta take control or Mr. Garrison will have a fit."

Kyle rolled onto his leaning back. "You're the class president. You take care of those girls."

"Yeah, but… technically, they're _your_ girls, dude."

"No… No, I don't want this… I never wanted this…" Kyle lowered his head as if ashamed of himself. He looked so tired he could faint.

Stan could sense that something was amiss with Kyle's insecurity. "…Dude, what's wrong?"

"…I have to tell you something, Stan. I… I knew how to dance for a while now. That whole rhythm thing hasn't happened since the third grade."

"…So, you knew you were gonna beat Cartman? You set him up for that dance-off?"

"He set himself up. He wanted to humiliate me, and I just couldn't let him. …I had no idea the girls would react like this."

"But this is a good thing, Kyle! Now you can have a date for the dance and-"

"NO!" jumped Kyle suddenly. "No, I don't want a date! I don't want a girlfriend, not again! Not after…" He stopped himself by cupping his mouth, as if finishing the sentence would kill him.

Stan was still confused. "…Dude, what is going on with you? Why don't you wanna be popular?"

"This isn't about being popular, Stan. I just can't deal with girls anymore. They're crazy, they're slutty, and they scare the sh*t outta me. If that's what I gotta put up with at the spring dance, then I'm not going."

"Dude!" frowned Stan in utter disappointment. "You have to go, everybody's gonna be disappointed. And Cartman! He's gonna rip on you if you don't go; he'll call you a coward!"

Kyle's eyes drooped in sorrow. "…That's a risk I'm willing to take. I'd rather get ripped on by Fatass than get hurt by another girl."

"…Another girl?"

Kyle started to walk off with his head hung. "Tell Mr. Garrison that I'm feeling sick and had to go home early. We'll talk later at home."

"Dude, wait," Stan pleaded.

"Just forget it, Stan! My mind's made up. I'll see you later."

Stan watched Kyle walk off, both shocked and distraught. It was only then, after what felt like years of ignorance, that he realized just how emotionally scarred his best friend really was.

TO BE CONTINUED…

**Bang-bang-bang!** Goes the gavel, just when you thought it was all over!

Says Stan from his classroom podium, "Attention, everybody! After a LOT of deliberating from the class, we've finally come up with five Themes for our spring formal dance. Here they are in no particular order:

PIRATE/NINJA LOVE AFFAIR

CELEBRITY COUPLES

I LOVE DISCO

SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE (Couples dressed as Shakespearean characters)

FAIRY TALE COUPLES

"You the viewer," says Stan with a smile, "have the power to choose which of these themes will be featured in the third act of our story! All you gotta do is place your vote in your Review, or go to the poll at Snodin's main page. Let YOUR voice be heard in our first-ever interactive fanfic! Remember, you have until Act III to submit your vote, which will probably be posted in one week from now. Until then, friends, we're adjourned!"

Gavel: **BANG!**


	2. Once Bitten, Twice Shy

"I Got Rhythm, I Got Issues"

A story based on "South Park,"

Created by Trey Parker and Matt Stone

Written by Snodin

ACT II: "Once Bitten, Twice Shy"

*

South Park Cemetery, the next day.

It was a beautiful, partly cloudy day, and some of the gravestones glistened in the sunlight. But none moreso than the one placed in the center of the cemetery, the one belonging to Jerome "Chef" McElroy. This grave had many visitors on a daily basis, but on this particular day, only one would show up. And that was Eric Cartman.

The small chubby boy waddled up to the grave of his former mentor carrying a bouquet of red roses, and though Cartman wasn't known for his sentiments, he clearly was donning a sincere frown at this moment.

"…Hey, Chef," he said somberly, facing the large gravestone. "It's me, Eric. I seem to be the only one that remembers you; those other gahs are now hanging out with the new school chef. But you would agree with me when I say that he's just a poor-ass whitey version of you. He doesn't even break into song, that cheap bastard! …Anyway, I just wanted you to know that there's at least one person around here who still misses you. Here, I got you these flowers. Some John came over to my house to leave 'em for my Mahm, but I think you deserve 'em more." He then placed the roses at the grave's base, then he stepped back to fold his hands in prayer. "I hope you're up dere in Heaven now, making sweet, sweet love to all de angels. Amen."

With that, Cartman made the sign of the cross, and left the grave with a slow pace and a tear in his eye.

*

Kyle was certain that he was being followed on his way home that next afternoon. Every once in a while, he would stop halfway down the block and turn around to see, but there was nothing there. He then had no choice but to resume his walk, and once again the paranoia would come over him.

It was just as he reached his own block when his ears had confirmed the sound of little footsteps behind him. Quicker than before, he whipped himself around to see who it was that was following him. What he saw was a small pink parks darting into the alley a little too late. He recognized that parka; it belonged to the young girl named Lizzy.

Kyle's jaw dropped; he wasn't imagining things! He was definitely being followed!

"Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!"

Girly giggles came from all around, seemingly surrounding the poor little Jewish boy. It was the girls alright- all of them! Well, probably not Wendy, she was taken. But all the others, he was sure of it, were following his every move. He had to run. Fast. …Even past his own house, to a more safer location…

*

"_I wanna make love right now-na-na_

_I wanna make love right now-na-na_

_Wish we never broke up right now-na-na_

_We need to link up right now-na-na…"_

In his basic blue tee-shirt instead of the brown coat and mittens, Stan was practicing his dance moves to the Akon sing "Right Now" as it played on the channel MTV3 ½. Already his groove and feet-shuffling were impressive, mostly thanks to the fact that he had been watching dance videos for days now, copying every move he saw.

**Ding-dong!**

"Coming!" he called out, and moon-walked over to the door. As soon as he opened the door and saw Kyle behind it, he snapped back to his old self. "Oh hey, dude!"

"No time! Must hide!!" Kyle ran past Stan and jumped on the couch before Stan could even take another breath. His blue-hatted friend closed the door and calmly walked over to him. "…Dude, what's up?"

"They're following me! I know it, I could feel their eyes on me! They're like little- Dude, what the hell're you watching?"

"MTV 3 ½," replied Stan. "It's only a matter of time before they switch it to an all-reality TV channel and move the music somewhere else. I just had to brush up on my moves."

"…Why?"

"Dude, listen…" Stan's tone of voice became very serious as he turned off the television. Kyle listened intently as Stan explained, "I've been hearing rumors going around at the school, and the older students are saying that after the dance… they're gonna get some."

Kyle stared blankly at him. "………..Get some what?" he shrugged.

Stan smiled excitedly. "I dunno, but I think it has something to do with their dates! Do you know what this means, dude? If I really dance my ass off that night, maybe I'll get some with Wendy!"

"Dude," doubted Kyle, "you can't even kiss her without throwing up in her face. How're you gonna get _anything_ with that girl?"

"It's okay, dude, I got it covered," answered Stan. "I got a cousin who's got a panic disorder, and she takes Lorazepam whenever she feels an attack coming on. All I need to do is take one of those that night, and I won't be nervous at all!"

"Lorazepam?"

"Yeah."

"…Isn't that the drug that killed Anna Nicole Smith?"

"Naw, dude, she took a whole bunch of drugs. Besides, I'm only taking this one. It won't hurt at all."

"I dunno, dude, that sounds risky."

"Well it's worth a shot anyway. …So Kyle, you mind helping me out? I mean, since you're like the hot sh*t at dancing now, maybe you could let me in on your secret. Would you, ol' buddy ol' pal?"

"My secret?"

"Come on dude, you can tell me! How did you get so good?"

"…Well… I do play DDR a lot."

"Uh-huh? …Here wait, lemmie get this down." Stan quickly took a pencil to paper and wrote aloud, "Play lots of DDR…"

"And I've watched Napoleon Dynamite about a hundred times."

Again, Stan wrote aloud, "Napoleon Dynamite… Kay?"

"And… I guess Fingerbang helped too."

"Fingerbang? …Oh yeah, that's right! I noticed you got your rhythm in control when we started that pop group! Dude, how did I miss that?"

"It's no big deal," frowned Kyle with a modest shrug.

"It_ is_ a big deal," replied Stan as he jumped onto the couch beside Kyle. "This is the one thing you can use against Cartman. Have you noticed how jealous he's become of you ever since you beat him in the dance-off?"

"…No?"

"You always wanted to get back at him for ripping on your religion. This is your big chance! You gotta use it, or else he's gonna find a way to beat you. And I know you don't want that to happen."

"…But… I told you, I can't face those girls."

"Dude, they're just like us except they got vaginas. What harm can they do?"

**Ding-Dong!**

"I'll get it." There are times when we regret what we say; for Stan, this was such a time. When he opened the door, he gasped at the sight of at least a dozen young girls at his door, all with the same zombie-like stare. "…Uh… C-can I help you?"

"Is Kyle there?" asked Bebe, who assumed leadership of the mob it seemed. "We already tried his house, and he's not home. So we just figured…"

"Uh, h-hold on a second." Stan left the door half open, leaving the girls outside. He hopped over to the couch where Kyle sat with fear plainly in his eyes. "…Dude. They're here."

"What?" whispered a terrified Kyle. "How many?"

"I dunno… All of them, I guess. You better hide."

"Holy crap, dude." Kyle wasted no time in jumping off the couch and running for the kitchen.

Stan had no other choice but to go back to the door and reopen it. "…Uh sorry girls, you just missed him. He-" **WHAM!** Stan was thrown off his feet as the girls forced their way inside, nearly trampling him. "Shout out if you see something green!" ordered Esther.

They ran into the kitchen and started throwing every door open, even the refrigerator, until Millie opened the doors under the kitchen sink. "Here he is!" she cheered, seeing that Kyle had somehow wedged himself behind the sink pipe.

"AUGH!" he screamed, as dozens of faces came toward him like rats to cheese.

Just then, Stan came running into the room with a broomstick, waving it around like a samurai weapon. "Back! Get back!!" he roared, swatting girls like flies as he advanced toward the sink. He managed to get in between Kyle's hiding spot and the zombie-like girls.

"Outta the way, Jew-lover!" growled Nelly jealously.

"Dude, he's not my boyfriend," said Stan defensively, lowering his broom.

"Oh no? Then why are you keeping him all to yourself?" asked Lizzy.

"I'm not!" Stan backed off, allowing the girls to move forward.

"Get him!" shouted Nelly again, and all at once the fan girls toppled Stan, dug into the sink, and pulled out Kyle.

As he was carried out via mosh pit, Kyle looked back at his friend furiously. "DUDE! How could you sell me out like that!?"

"I'm sorry, dude! They used their mind tricks on me!" cowered Stan in the corner.

"Remind me to kick your ass later!" shouted Kyle as his fangirls carried him outside through the back door.

*

In Stan's backyard, the girls had Kyle cornered against a wall. There, he tried to shield himself with his mittened hands. "What do you want from me??"

"We just wanna see you dance again," smiled Bebe innocently. "Just one more time. Please, Kyle?"

"Yeah. Pleeeaaaase?" cooed the other girls.

At a loss, Kyle sighed and rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. Just one."

"Hit it, Heidi!" ordered Bebe, pointing to the one girl of the group with a boombox.

Heidi, the girl with the soft brown hair and green jacket, switched the radio on to the tune _"Love-Stoned," _by Justin Timberlake. Kyle paused to catch the rhythm before shuffling his feet and making smooth turns to the song. The girls gathered around in a semi-circle to watch and swoon.

Nearby, the attention was caught by one Eric Cartman, as he was walking home from his visit to Chef's grave. As he watched Kyle's fan base grow all the more, he became increasingly jealous. "God dammit," he muttered before resuming his walk home.

Kyle was quick to finish his routine and gave the girls a sharp look of disinterest. "There. You happy now?"

Heidi switched off her radio and replied, "Not quite yet. We need to know which of us you're taking to the Spring Dance, hot stuff."

They all jumped up and shouted at once. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Pick me! Pick me! Please pick me!"

"I'm not going to the dance!"

"Awwww," mourned the girls in unison.

"But you _have_ to," insisted Bebe. "Everybody loves the way you move. Don't you… like being liked?"

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't care what everybody else thinks. If I did, then Cartman would've been dead a long time ago. And besides, I don't really know who to take with me, 'cause… well, I really don't like any of you girls… in that way, I mean."

"What about that home-schooled girl? Didn't you like her?" Bebe pointed out.

Kyle's faced seemed to flush pale at the mentioning of that "one girl." "…I… I gotta go." Without saying another word, he pushed his way out of the crowd and bounded out of the yard.

The girls glanced at each other, as if his reaction seemed to worry them.

*

The Miller residence, that evening.

Underneath the small brown house lied a very large basement, to which Mr. Mackey had gained access to thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Miller. With him going down the steps were the parents of eighth grader Victor Miller, as well as Mr. Adler the school shop class teacher, armed with a camera.

"I can assure you, Mr. Mackey," said the concerned father, "our son and his little friends had learned their lesson from last year's dance."

"M'kay, well I just need to make sure they're not hiding any liquor down here, m'kay?"

Mr. Mackey was welcomed to a stack of wooden boxes, all labeled "FRAGILE." "If Victor's hiding anything down here," said the father, "it'd be in one of these crates."

"M'kay. Uh, Mr. Adler, would you hand me the axe please?"

"Sure thing," said the short stocky man with the band-aid on his forehead, nonchalantly pulling an axe from behind his back and handing it over to the school counselor.

"Wait, what're you doing?" asked a concerned Mrs. Miller.

Taking up the axe, Mr. Mackey replied, "We need to do this quick and painless, m'kay Mrs. Miller? Uh, Mr. Adler, be ready with that camera so we can send the evidence to court. M'kay?"

"Sure thing." Mr. Adler loyally readied his large-lensed camera while the concerned parents stepped back.

Like a lumberjack, Mackey took his axe to the first large wooden box, and chipped away both wood and hay that covered the inside of it. The others watched with baited breath, as the scrawny counselor reached into the box, and pulled out… a black umbrella. Mr. Adler's lens flashed just as the umbrella opened up over a dumbfounded Mackey.

"Ah!" sighed Mr. Miller happily. "It's just our summer stuff. No worries then."

"You mean," frowned Mackey, "all of this is really just… stuff, m'kay?"

Mrs. Miller calmly replied, "We haven't seen this stuff in so long, we almost completely forgot about it! But thanks to you, we now know for certain that there's no liquor here at all."

"But… But shouldn't I open up the other boxes? M'kay? Maybe they're…"

"Aw, not to worry Mackey," assured Mr. Miller. "We'll just search our boy's room and ask around. No need to get all worked up over nothing now."

As the parents left the basement, Mr. Adler scooted over to Mackey with his camera. "You know, we could always use the picture for our school yearbook."

"Uh… No, that's m'kay," muttered a humbled Mackey, still holding up the open umbrella.

*

That same night, Kyle Broflovski fidgeted in his bed as he drifted off into a dream, one that started out nice, soft and rosy in pigment…

_He saw himself sitting at the foot of a large tree atop a green hill, while butterflies danced in the air. He seemed to be having a picnic with someone, as there was a checkerboard blanket beneath him and a picnic basket nearby. He reached for an apple, when his hand met with another. He looked up, and there she was: Rebecca Cotswald._

_She looked just as she did when they first met; her brunette hair was soft and curly, with bangs that seemed almost perfectly circled. Her green jacket's tint matched the flaps of his shapka's, with a purple collar. Her pants were an even lighter green, and her legs always seemed folded. Her nervous lip-biting mannerism was the same too, as was the way she would fold her trembling hands to her mouth. She looked so pure, so shy… so perfect._

_When his brown eyes met with hers, Kyle seemed to have fallen under a trance. All of time stood still; everything was blurry except for Rebecca's perfect face. That face began to draw closer and closer to his own, as if beckoning for a kiss. How could he refuse? She was the girl of his dreams, after all- nobody was smarter than her, not even he himself! He closed his eyes and puckered up…_

"_URK!"_

_Kyle's eyes popped open as he found himself lifted off the ground by his chest. No, it was worse- Rebecca, whose innocent face was now smiling maniacally, had thrust her hand into his chest while he was caught off guard! There was a pause as the scene suddenly faded to red, just as Rebecca gave one hard tug and literally pulled out Kyle's heart! Kyle himself fell to the floor, blood oozing out from his underside, while Rebecca stood back and held up the heart, which was still beating!_ Thump-thump! Thump-thump! Thump-thump!

"_Hey!" came a familiar feminine voice nearby. Rebecca turned around, and saw that a massive gathering of young girls showed up out of nowhere, led by Bebe Stevens. "That right there belongs to me!" she defiantly said, pointing to Kyle's rosy beating heart. "Give it here, bitch!"_

_Before she could defend herself, Rebecca was suddenly overpowered by Kyle's new fan base, all grasping for the small beating heart. "It's mine!" "It's mine!" "Give it to me!" "You're not holding it right!" "Here! Gimmie!"_

_Kyle, meanwhile, slowly staggered to his knees- he was still alive, but clutched onto the hole in his chest weakly. He tried to reach out and wordlessly tried to beg for his heart back. But no one would listen; no one even cared to look back at him to see if he was okay. He watched in horror, as the girls played tug-o-war with his fragile heart, until it started to get pulled out of proportion… until at last, it was ripped to pieces._

"AAAAAUUGH!" he screamed himself awake. He was suddenly back in his room, and it was dark and quiet. Panting, he paused to press his hands to his chest to see if his heart was still there. …Yes, it was, and it was okay. He sighed deeply as he laid back against his pillow.

But just as Kyle felt relaxed, a face popped up at the end of his bed!

"AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGH!!!" he screamed again, louder and more horrified than before.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" screamed Cartman, as he was taken by surprise and fell on his back.

"….CARTMAN!? WHAT THE F*CK?!" roared a now furious Kyle, as he rose to his knees to see that his intruder was the annoying fat kid.

Cartman jumped back to his feet and gasped, "Ya didn't see me! …And I'm not takin' yer PSP either!" As he lied, Cartman grabbed the closest thing he could, which was Kyle's PSP. And then, as fast as he could, Cartman ran for the open window to make his escape. But as soon as he set foot on the windowsill, he lost his balance and fell like a rock. "Wa-woah! WAAH!"

**Thud.**

"_Butters, you stupid asshole! I told you to put the trampoline over HYAH!"_

"_Uh-I-I-I'm sorry, Eric! I thought you said 'left.'"_

"_Ah DID say left, you butt-pipe!"_

"_Th-that's your right."_

"_No, it's YOUR right!"_

"_I know I'm right."_

"_NO! …Augh, ferget it! Yer fired!"_

Now that he was truly alone, Kyle sighed again and laid back against his pillow tiredly as the argument outside went on. It would appear that Kyle was aware of Cartman's inexplicable hobby of intrusion, and with half-open eyes he came up with this simple conclusion: "…I have _got_ to get bars on the window."

*

South Park Elemrntary, Monday morning.

"Okay, children, settle down," ordered Mr. Garrison to an already-settled class. "Now, before we begin today's lessons, I have some very important news concerning the dance this weekend."

Bebe quickly raised her hand.

"Yes, Bebe?"

"Where's Kyle?"

"He called out sick this morning."

"Did he get diabetes again?" asked Craig.

Mr. Garrison rolled his eyes. "Craig, Kyle was born with diabetes."

"That lucky bastard," frowned the kid in blue.

"Do you kids wanna hear about your stupid dance or not?" Garrison impatiently asked.

"Yes!" was the unanimous reply.

"Fine, then." Garrison then pulled out a small piece of paper and read it. "As you know, we've taken our ideas for the spring dance to the school staff, and it seems that a new poll was sent out throughout the school. And it looks like one of your ideas has been accepted as this year's dance theme!"

"Hooray!!" cheered the class.

"It seems that eighty-five percent of the school has decided to go with… this." Garrison then held up a large plaque to the class with the title of the dance theme. "Ooooooooo," purred the students.

Putting down the plaque, Garrison went on to say, "Now there's no rule that you have to bring a date to the dance, but you will be introduced by order of Singles and Couples."

"Kick ass," smiled a confident Cartman. "I already know who I'm goin' with."

He was lying.

*

Almost immediately after school, Cartman went to work on asking various girls to the dance. Whether Kyle would show up to the event or not, the fat boy just _had_ to be one step ahead of him. But it wouldn't be easy.

"Hey Bebe, you wanna go to the dance with me?"

"Eat fish, fatass."

"Well screw you too, bitch! …Hey Heidi, wanna-"

"Leave me alone, bubble-butt."

"…Hey, Lola, once you know fat you never go flat!"

"Bite me."

"…Esther?"

"Get lost."

"Lizzy?"

"Keep walking."

"Nelly? …Ay, Nelly, where're you going? Woah, woah, WOAH Nelly!" She took off before he could even catch up to her.

By five-thirty, Cartman was at the bottom of the barrel as far as girls to ask to the dance with. He had no choice but to knock on the door to the last available female. As she watched from the doorway, Cartman pulled off a well-planned speech: "It is with great humility that I happen upon your doorstep and request that you attend the South Park Elementary Spring Dance with me, for I believe you and I are truly destined for each other. We have the same goals, you and I- we both hate hippies and assholes, and we share the same interests in world domination. So if you would consider my offer, my dearest soul mate, know that I will make that night the grandest night of your young and beautiful life."

Shelly Marsh paused with a certain look of confusion in her eyes. "…..Are you freakin' serious??"

"Please, Shelly!" begged Cartman as he fell to his knees and clasped his hands. "Nobody else will go with me, and I'll look like a total idiot if I go alone! You gotta do me this one huge favor!"

"I don't dance for anybody, especially for fat little turds like you!"

"I'll give you fifty dollars at the end of the night!"

"What time do I pick you up?"

*

It turned out that Kyle was not sick that day, he was just avoiding the girls again. But one day was enough for him; he couldn't ignore his studies like most kids, and he knew he would have to face his fears sooner or later. All he needed was some guidance. What he needed… was a school chef.

Jeff had moved into Chef's old house- perhaps it was face, or just plain irony. Whichever the case was, that's where Kyle ended up going to that evening. He rang the doorbell, and sure enough, the tall skinny white guy with the apron and chef hat answered the door. "…Hello?"

"Hey, Jeff."

"Oh, it's you. What're you doing here, kid?"

"I came to ask for your advice," confessed Kyle. "May I come in?"

"Uh… okay, I guess."

Gone were the 70's-inspired décor of the old Chef; in its place were retro furniture including a Chia Pet on a table beside the television, Troll Dolls lined up on a cabinet in the living room, and a soft white couch instead of the big leopard-spotted one. "Wow, this place is different," commented Kyle.

"Yeah, I'm a child of the 80's," replied Jeff. "So what did you wanna talk to me about, kid?"

"You can call me Kyle."

"Okay, Kyle, what's on your mind?"

The young boy sat on the couch as if making himself feel at home. "Well, you know the school dance is this weekend, and I was wondering if you could help me with some girl problems."

"…Uh… Shouldn't you be asking your mom or dad about this?"

"Well, you're the school chef. We always used to talk to Chef about our problems."

"…Look, Kyle… I'm not 'Chef,' I'm just Jeff. I really don't know how to help you with your problems, I just make lunch food."

Kyle's mouth gaped in profound disappointment. "…But… I- I thought…"

"Look I'm sorry, but I really can't help you."

Kyle hung his head in sorrow. "…Cartman was right. You don't care at all about us."

"No, no. I _do_ care."

"No you don't. If you did, you'd stop complaining about being just an ordinary chef and listen to what I have to say. The old Chef would make us feel better before, during and after lunch! He was an all-around nice guy… and you're… You're nothing special." Jeff felt hurt by this comment, but Kyle ignored him as he got up to leave. "I'm sorry I wasted your time; I won't bother you anymore. Goodbye, Jeff."

"…Kyle, wait!"

The boy stopped and turned around to face him.

Jeff took a gulp and went for it: "…What exactly is your problem?"

Kyle couldn't help but smile a little, knowing he had gotten through to Jeff. He walked back to him and replied, "Well, I used to like this girl named Rebecca Cotswalds, but she broke my heart a while back- and it was during another dance, believe it or not. And now, all the girls wanna be my date for this dance, and I dunno who to go with because I'm afraid that any one of them will tear out my heart and dance all over it."

"Oh! So you're what they call 'once bitten, twice shy.'"

"Huh?"

"That's a song from an old metal band called Great White. But what it means is, you're just scared of getting hurt again. But Kyle, you need to get over this Rebecca girl and try to move on, or else you'll never get to find the Right Girl."

"And how do I do that?"

"With closure."

"Closure? What's closure?"

"Just talk to this Rebecca chick and tell her how you feel. Then when you realize she's as over you as you're over her, you'll feel better."

"…I should go talk to her? …I'm kinda scared to."

"Here, lemmie show you something." Jeff then walked Kyle over to a desk drawer full of vintage 80's rock CDs. "Uh-huh…. Here we go," muttered the school chef as he fished out one album after another. "Pat Benatar… Bon Jovi… Joan Jett… Alice Cooper… a-a-a-a-and… Def Leppard. Can't forget them."

"What're you doing?" asked a curious Kyle.

"These are some of the best Get-Over-Your-Ex bands out there, kid. I'm gonna lend these to you to help you on your way." As he said this, Jeff gladly handed the albums over to his new protégé. "Just be careful with 'em, okay?"

"Wow!" cheered Kyle as he held the albums. "Thanks, Jeff!"

"No problem." He then walked Kyle out of his house. But before the boy walked off for good, he stopped him. "Hey Kyle… That old Chef you talked about. He was a cool guy, wasn't he?"

"He was," replied Kyle somberly. "The coolest guy ever… But, you're pretty cool too."

Jeff couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, kiddo."

*

Cartman was lucky to have known a boy as gullible and willing to cooperate as Butters Stotch. Together, they snuck into South Park Cemetery in the dead of night, carrying a sack full of occult items. They came to a stop at Chef's grave, and Cartman pulled out tall wax candles, a Wicca pendant, and even a book which they believed contained ancient spells- it was actually a Harry Potter book, but Cartman would never admit to it.

"Okay Butters, you light up the candles and I'll read the chapter on Spirit Channeling."

"Uh, why're we doing this again, Eric? Sh-shouldn't we leave Chef's soul in peace?"

"We can't let those hippies replace him with that oddball cracker," hissed Cartman. "Besides, I need Chef's help to get back at Kahl!"

As Butters started to light up the wax candles with a borrowed lighter, he protested, "I think we should leave well enough alone."

"I don't pay you to think."

"…You don't pay me at all."

"Just shuddup and get those Goddamn candles in position!"

"Alright, fine…" Butters had the lit candles circled around the grave while Cartman donned a black robe and the Wicca pendant around his neck. He then checked his watch and waited until it struck midnight.

When the hour came at last, the candle flames flushed from yellow to blue- either because there was true magic involved, or perhaps they were props all along. Cartman raised his hands in the air and started to pray ritualistically: "Oh, great Spirit of Chef, I command thee to rise up from the ashes and inhabit this perfectly fahn body of mine! Give me your soul, your rhythm, your jazzy blackness! Hear me, oh Great Spirit! Infuse me with your great talents!"

**Crackle-BOOM!** Went a bolt of lightning in the sky.

"Ha! It's working!"

"Actually, they were calling for rain," replied Butters softly.

Cartman ignored him and held up his so-called Spell Book. "I hold tha powa! Give me your strength O Spirit! Hazzah!!"

There was a brief moment of silence as the candles were blown out by a frosty wind.

"…Well? Did it work? You feel black yet, Eric?"

Cartman lost face as his arms went back down. "…Meh. I guess we'll have to wait and see. Come, Butters, we have much preparations to do before we kick that Jew boy's ass back to Loserville."

Clouds started to part as the boys exited from the way they came. The full moon glistened upon Chef's gravestone, and if one stared at it long enough, they would swear that it slightly moved for a moment.

*

"_I hate myself for loving you_

_Can't break free from the things that you do_

_I try to walk, but I run back to you_

_That's why I hate myself for loving you…!"_

Kyle laid back on his bed and banged his head to the sound of Joan Jett and The Blackhearts, while his little brother Ike bounced around excitedly. After a few minutes of listening to the hard-core rock, Ike jumped on the bed and threw himself at his big brother. "Slam dance!!" he cheered.

"Ike, lay off!" Kyle brushed him aside. He then waited for the song to end before turning off the CD player beside him. He sat up and calmly announced, "Okay… I think I'm ready. Ike, I'm going out for a little while. You're the man of the house while I'm gone, okay?"

"O-kay!" As Ike watched Kyle head toward the bedroom door, he blurted out, "Were baba gone?"

Kyle looked back to him and smiled, "I gotta see a girl about closure."

*

Humming the tune _"Bringing on the Heartbreak,"_ Kyle skipped over to the Cotswald residence. He gently knocked on the door, unsure of who to expect. Nervously, he clasped his hands.

The door softly opened, and out peered the young boy Mark, Rebecca's protective brother.

"Uh, hi! Mark, right? I'm Kyle Broflovski. I dunno if you remember me, but I was wondering if"

_**SLAM!**_ Went the door.

"…I guess he remembers me." Bravely, Kyle knocked on the door again. Mark opened it again, looking quite miffed, so Kyle was quick to say, "Look, I know you blame me for your sister becoming a total tramp, but you have to know that I had no intentions of messing her up like that! All I wanted was to be her boyfriend; I had no idea she would like kissing guys so much! So please, I'm begging you to forgive me!"

Mark softened his brows. "…Well, I guess it has been a while since the Bay of Pigs Memorial Dance. And it is unfair to blame you for what happened, so I guess you have my forgiveness."

"Great."

"Is that all then?"

"Well, actually, I was kinda hoping your sister was home."

……._**SLAM!**_ Went the door again.

Feeling defeated, Kyle bowed his head and started to walk away. He only stopped when he heard the door opening again. He looked back, and there she was! It was Rebecca- not the leotard-wearing tramp, but the old Rebecca, back in her modestly green clothing.

"Re-Rebecca?" gasped Kyle in surprise.

"Yes?" she smiled slightly.

How relieved Kyle was, seeing that she had reverted back to her old self! He practically ran to the door in his excitement, but stopped just at the doorway. "…Okay, look. I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, but I think we need to find some kind of closure before we move on with our lives."

"Okay… What was your name again?"

"Kyle."

"Oh, right. Kyle…"

"…So. Are you ready?"

"I guess so."

"Good…" Kyle clenched his fists and turned on the fury. "I hate you! You broke my heart back in third grade, and turned me into a total pussy in front of my friends! I may forgive you for that someday, when I'm older- maybe! But right now, I need to move on and find someone better. And you need to learn how to control yourself, you crazy bitch! So this is goodbye! Oh, and this time _I'm_ slamming the door on YOU!"

_**SLAM! ……cree-ee-ee-eek.**_ Frustrated, Kyle slammed the stubborn door again. He then took a deep sigh and started down the doorstep.

To his surprise, Rebecca reopened the door and peered out. She didn't look hurt at all by what he said. "Kyle? …Are you okay now?"

After giving it a thought, he looked up at her and slowly cracked a smile. "…Yeah. …Yeah, I think I am. Thanks, Beck."

"Glad to have helped," she smiled before gently closing the door.

Kyle left the area a new man, or rather a new preteen. His heart started beating as if for the first time in ages as he skipped down the street. …He felt like dancing.

*

TO BE CONCLUDED…

Kyle has temporarily taken Stan's place at the classroom podium. "There's still time to cast your votes for the Spring Dance Theme in Act III," he says to you the viewer. "Here they are again, in case you missed them:

PIRATE/NINJA LOVE AFFAIR

CELEBRITY COUPLES

I LOVE DISCO

SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE (Couples dressed as Shakespearean characters)

FAIRY TALE COUPLES

Kyle smiles, "If you wanna be a part of this, just leave your vote in a Review, or go to Snodin's main page and click on the appropriate Poll. The final act is coming soon, so get your votes in NOW. See you at the dance!" *waves*


End file.
